


Wouldn't It Be Nice

by pauliemeatballs



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauliemeatballs/pseuds/pauliemeatballs
Summary: Short little fic about Reinhardt and Sigma riiiiiiight on the cusp of falling into a romantic relationship. They still think of each other as friends despite all the intimacy and tenderness they share. Obviously, as per my last fic, they eventually admit they love each other, but the way they complete each other prior to that actually distracts them from the truth of their feelings. Named after the Beach Boys song.





	Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Author's Note:**

> -some lines are double entendres 👀 not sexual ones tho
> 
> -sometimes u gotta kiss ur bro and hold him and nuzzle him its not gay!!!!! sometimes u think about marrying ur best friend and waking up next to him in the morning and after having spent the day together hold each other close the whole night through!!!!! Happy times together we've been spending I wish that every kiss was never ending Oh, wouldn't it be nice Maybe if we think and wish and hope and pray It might come true (run run ooo) Baby, then there wouldn't be a si

The image of wedding rings refused to leave Siebren’s mind, no matter how deeply he immersed himself in his studies.

He felt cold, the kind of cold that could be thawed by a nap in a warm, overused blanket smelling of past memories, but not remedied enough such that any feeling would return to his skin, like bottomless hunger being staved off with candy. The equations on his holopad looked blurry, not from tears but from his brain refusing to focus on anything else besides the tenderness he felt. Siebren could admit it was uncomfortable on some level, like having his nerves exposed. Reinhardt would tell him he was being silly; such modesty coming from a man who walked around the watchpoint in tights. Siebren smiled to himself, and curled his toes. He felt like a browser tab that refused to load, idly spinning in his swivel chair at his desk before deciding to get up and make himself a cup of tea, setting the holopad aside despite still working the equations out in his head. He’d jot it down on something later. It wasn’t that important. Mere theories on what he could hypothetically do with his powers; how heavy an object he could lift with his mind alone; the extent to which his power outstretched from him, and if it surpassed his line of sight; the possibility of stopping the bleeds from his nose and ears. As of now, it was all completely uninteresting to him. He heard a loud knock on the door and realized he’d been spaced out at the counter, idly fiddling with his mug. The kind of knock was familiar to him, and he felt his heart sharply arrested as if a bear trap had snapped shut around it. Siebren shook his head and quickly strode over to the door to let Reinhardt in.

“My friend, what is this? You’re sitting here in the dark?”

Siebren looked around and realized how low he had set the lights, or maybe he didn’t even bother to raise them when he came in. Either or. His brain felt like mush.

“I didn’t notice. I’ve been busy, I guess.”

“You look a little tired, _ kleiner. _”

Siebren laughed softly at the term of endearment, and blushed. He thanked himself for being absent-minded enough to forget the lights. Reinhardt was a hulking pillar of a man, towering over everyone in the watchpoint at just over seven feet, but Siebren didn’t exactly consider himself little, either. The top of his head would come up to Rein’s ear if they were to stand side by side, and though he did not exercise to build muscle like Rein did, he thought he looked decently fit enough to not be considered scrawny. 

“Just a bit. I, um--*_ ahem _*-- if I were to take a nap, would you...care to join me?”

Reinhardt blinked incredulously, as if to say, “_Of course, you fool. Why do you think you even have to ask me?_”

“I’d love to. You know I love spending time with you.”

“Only if you don’t have anything else to do, of course.”

“I don’t! And even if I did, I’d find a way around it.”

“I’m not that important, Reinhardt.”

“Don’t ever say that, my friend. I like to think we made each other’s lives a little sweeter when we entered them, no?” Rein punctuated himself with a soft squeeze of Siebren’s shoulder.

Siebren found he couldn’t say anything in return, and felt like his nerves were weaving their way through his pores like vines reaching for the sun. He felt a dumb smile plastered onto his face, and turned his gaze downward so he didn’t look like some senile old revenant in a nursing home forgetting how to speak.

“Oh, I_ love _ this song!!”

“Hm?”

“You don’t strike me as a Beach Boys person, though.”

“What _ do _ I strike you as?”

“That is one of the things I love about you: I can’t compare you to any band or sound. You’re so _ eclectic _.”

“So are you, _ liefste _.” Siebren felt a surge of pride at his bravery.

“Ah, yes, yes, yes, I love all kinds of music, but when you look at me, what do you see?” Rein leaned forward expectantly, and Siebren returned a knowing smile.

“Blind Guardian,” they said in unison, and Siebren laughed along with him.

“Mm, dance with me, get me tired again. You’ve made me too happy.”

“I can live the rest of my life a happy man if you say so every day.”

“It would get annoying.”

“Not if you mean it.”

Reinhardt gently wrapped his arms around the small of Siebren’s back, and Siebren’s around Rein’s shoulders and waist. The dreamy music continued as the two began to sway. 

_ You still believe in me _

_ I try hard to be more what you want me to be _

_ But I can't help how I act when you're not here with me _

_ I try hard to be strong but sometimes I fail myself _

_ And after all I've promised you so faithfully _

_ You still believe in me _

_ I want to cry _

Siebren’s lips rested against Rein’s shoulder, looking ahead with content, unfocused eyes. This was what he needed. A hug from his friend, his best friend, and he’d forget what it was to be cold in the first place. He felt one of Rein’s large, warm hands brush up to his shoulder blades, and his skin prickled. How wonderful that Rein wanted to hug him too. Siebren raised his head slightly so they were cheek to cheek, and smiled when he felt Rein’s beard against him. 

_ I want to cry _

Their faces slid back fully until they were facing each other, almost nose to nose. Reinhardt took the hand on his back and held it to the side, positioning them as two proper dancers. For some reason, Siebren didn’t feel he needed to worry about bravery or cowardice anymore, and leaned in to nuzzle Rein. He chuckled gently, and they were so close Siebren could almost feel it against his own mouth as Rein nuzzled him back. Their eyes were closed, completely lost in each other, and the music. Rein felt Siebren’s lips brush past the corner of his own. Unintentionally, of course. He leaned into it ever so slightly and smiled when he felt the prickliness of Siebren’s shaved facial hair growing back in. Siebren smiled back, his lips more on target with Rein’s, gently ghosting them over and feeling the side of Rein’s blocky, bony nose against his long, broad one. They both laughed softly, and hugged each other tighter, placing them cheek to cheek again.

“I think I’m ready now.”

* * *

Siebren didn’t know what the time was, or whether or not the sun was still up, or how long he slept. The blinking of the TV illuminated the two of them almost eerily, the section of space Siebren had chosen for his wall much darker and lacking in stars than his usual selection. That was fine, however. The inky void of his room felt comforting, even more so with Rein sound asleep beside him, radiating warmth like a giant cat. Siebren faced him, wrapped in his own blanket, and felt the uncomfortable dryness of his eyes pleading for him to go back to sleep. He would oblige. Soon. He inched himself closer to Rein, the larger man resting his head on his forearm, indicating that he might have stayed awake to watch Siebren fall asleep before settling in himself. Siebren reached a hand carefully over to Rein’s exposed bicep, wanting to feel the girth of the muscle against his palm, but he quickly snatched it away lest the contact stirred Rein from his nap. He fidgeted the recoiled fist, wondering if he should try a clothed part of him so that the contact wouldn’t be as noticeable, but decided against it at the last minute. 

Siebren tried moving himself closer, as close as they were in the lab together, without disturbing Reinhardt’s side of the bed. He looked so peaceful, and he wasn’t snoring, for once. His breathing was extremely subtle, almost unnoticeable. Siebren swallowed and extended his hand again, opting to barely brush his fingers against the ends of Rein’s beard, and rubbing his fingers together afterward as if it left an actual sensation._ I can trim your beard _ , he thought to himself. _ I taught myself how when I was in space. I can shave your neck and put the hot towel on you. I can trim your hair whenever you want. Do whatever you want. I can do things for you. I want to do things for you. Let me do things for you as you’ve done for me. _

He swallowed those thoughts, immediately feeling a hot flush of embarrassment. He was sixty-two years old; why did he feel such juvenile insecurity around his friend? Having friends as an old man differed vastly from the ones you had as a child. You were still forming your identity then, and so your companions were not altogether there, really. You existed for them as much as they did for you, to figure yourself out, and change, and continue changing. Such sad impermanence, growing up was. Nothing was everything and everything was nothing. An infuriating paradox that made you feel sickeningly small.

Siebren didn’t feel small now. It had taken him many decades but he’d relive them all if it meant he could feel this whole again when he caught back up. He knew that if he hurt, or if he felt sad or alone, Reinhardt’s arms would always be open for him. Rein would always be ready to give himself to Siebren, and Siebren wanted a way to give himself back. So badly, so desperately. He needed to prove that he was a good friend, too, but there was nothing he could do at the moment. Hopefully, he could at least let Rein know the depth of his gratitude in his dreams. Siebren leaned forward slowly, carefully, and pressed his lips to Reinhardt’s as delicately as he could. He held them there for what seemed a long time, wondering how Rein was seeing it in his head, until it began to feel right to Siebren. Right, and proper, and good. 

Siebren pulled away and felt at ease, the heaviness of his eyelids seizing their moment and ushering him back into a deep, peaceful sleep. Before it took him fully, he inched a hand into the free one Reinhardt had resting between them, hoping they met in their dreams, too. 

_ Slaap goed, mijn vriend, (Sleep well, my friend,) _ he thought. _ Bedankt. _


End file.
